


Mix, Do Not Shake

by halocentury



Series: kyluxxoxo 19 [7]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Panic Attacks, Party, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 05:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20286304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halocentury/pseuds/halocentury
Summary: Hux wished that Phasma hadn't brought him to the mixer.He would've taken any out, but not the one he was given. Okay, the man was more than acceptable. The method, not so much.





	Mix, Do Not Shake

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for Week 7 of kyluxxoxo. The theme is Summer Love, with the prompts being scent / mix / sweet.

He hadn’t finished his first drink of the night and Phasma, the reason he came, had already vanished into the crowd. The reason he hadn’t left was because leaving an unfinished drink, even in a questionable environment, was not his style.

She thought he would socialise, but his bored expression, bordering on perturbed, kept most people away. The only people getting close to him were the results of accidents, bumping into him and his solo cup (not even real glassware) while talking with other people.

Phasma said he needed a life outside the boardroom but coming to a mixer was a poor choice of outings. Maybe if she had decided on somewhere else it would’ve been less of a struggle but it appeared she had plans with the brunette who had all but sucked her face off in greeting.

Why he’d been dragged along when she had plans to leave him for her latest sweetheart he didn’t know but Hux had more than ample reasons to leave as soon as the red cup in hand was empty.

Which happened much sooner than he expected when the latest clumsy person all but collided with his arm. His half-remaining drink spilled on his shirt and a not insignificant amount of the other person’s beverage travelled down his pant leg to his shoe. 

Forget perturbed. He was pissed. Before he could swear out his displeasure the other person did it for him.

“Fuck Poe! Watch where you’re going!” 

Hux didn’t know who was the Poe in question, or hear any indication of who the dark-haired man was in front of him was. He was staring at the back of his head, knowing that he hadn’t had much to drink to believe that he was sparkling. The closer Hux looked he realised there were at least two strands of small beads in his hair, scattered through the layers in flashes of metallic black and dark red.

Those beads swayed more when he turned around, contrite as he looked him over. “Are you alright?”

“I’m sticky.” Hux pulled his shirt slightly away from his body, the location of the spill visible even in the dimmed lighting. “And I smell.” Or so he thought, there were too many people and drinks to tell if it was coming from his pants or not.

“Let me find some towels, I’m sure we can dry you down,” the other man offered, starting to reach for him. 

“Don’t bother.” He had probably grumbled louder than necessary, ire mounting more. “I was leaving after I finished my drink, so you conveniently helped me out. I’m drying out in an uber and going home.”

“Hey, no need to be hasty.” This time his hand did squeeze his shoulder, holding him in place. The hand was large and could’ve easily jostled him upon touch but he gentled the gesture at the last minute. “Let me get you a drink to apologize. Besides, I just lost my whole drink thanks to my friend.”

That explained why his pant leg felt like it was sticking to his whole thigh. “I’m wearing your whole drink?”

“Let me get you a new drink and several towels. Then we can go outside where we shouldn’t be bumped into by anyone.”

There was no hope in salvaging his pants without putting them in the wash but there was still a chance that he wouldn’t feel quite like the floor of a bar’s bathroom. “One drink,” Hux insisted, relenting to being steered through the house. By the little effort it took to get to the kitchen it was clear that the other man was familiar with the place. “Do you live here?”

“My cousin shares the house with a few other people. I’ve been here often enough, usually if she needs me to move things in or out.” The previous room had been busy but setting foot into the kitchen was almost impossible. The whole room was food and drink central and more people were in here than capacity allowed. Even more present over the smell of food and alcohol he could detect weed. Had it not been for the other man’s arm shifting to wrap around his waist, pulling him through the cramped room, he would’ve stayed in the hallway. “What do you want to drink?”

“Anything.” Hux wasn’t claustrophobic but anxiety, and an ill-timed puff of smoke directly to his face, had his pulse pounding frantically in his head. Ears buzzing, getting more light-headed as he was herded towards the sink, he grabbed onto the counter with both hands, plastic cup tottering into one of the two empty sinks. 

The only thing that prevented him from an unintentional Heimlich manoeuvre when someone else careened into him from behind was his height advantage. Gasping on the impact, hips smacking the hard edge, his breath shook. He couldn’t pull enough air into his lungs and his face was growing hotter the longer he was pinned to the counter. 

The weight was pulled off from him and he was turned around. The man’s friendly gaze darkened upon seeing his face. He had a towel in hand but he dropped it and grabbed him. It wasn’t quite as hard as the person who had body-slammed him but he was sure he would have bruises on his waist to match the ones on his hips.

“Get out the way! We need air!”

Hux didn’t have much to say, clinging onto the man who shouldered his way through the crowd, most not listening to him. His head was drooping, his feet almost not cooperating as the man tried to get them through fast. The only good thing about there being too many people in the house was that he didn’t have the chance to land on his face, the numerous bodies providing a buffer to keep him upright. 

He didn’t register a cool breeze on his face or the murmurs around him. He was still clinging when he was helped down, cushion at his back, legs pulled up.

His hand was loosened from the man’s shirt, pulled up to his chest. The man didn’t question why his thumb took to stroking, but held his hand firm, letting him feel his heartbeat and his slow but deep inhales and exhales. “Breathe with me.” His other hand came up to his own chest, stroking but also making sure that they were breathing in sync. 

Away from the music and crush of people, Hux relaxed slowly. The angle of his legs on the chaise lounge, as that was what it had to be, was awkward, and he tried to shift his legs. He could feel a kink starting in the lower part of his back, not helped by whoever had collided with him. The complaint on his lips was stalled by feeling the rise and fall of breath under his hand and the hand steadying him in turn, their breaths matching together after several seconds.

“Better?” 

“I think so.” His throat was dry, he could’ve done with some water but he wasn’t about to venture back inside, and he didn’t want the stranger to leave him. His head was dull and achy, reminding him of the sensation of the day after a migraine. Lying here was for the best, until he had the ability to stand up and walk without stumbling. Exhaling, skin tingling with blessed cold, he swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Are you hurting?”

“A little, but I’ll be fine.” Hux murmured, settling when he felt the hand shift up from his chest, fingers extending for his neck. Hux tilted into the touch, positioning so he could feel his pulse, figuring that was what he was doing. “Just need to rest for a few minutes.”

“Can I ask you why you’re here? This kind of a party doesn’t look like your type of thing.”

Huffing, the corner of his mouth quirking up, Hux curled his head and neck, unconsciously encouraging him to keep stroking. “My friend invited me along, thought I needed to get out. Had I known that she planned on ditching me to spend the night with her girlfriend I wouldn’t have come.”

“The indignity. The gall.”

The sarcastic commentary had him laughing properly. His head chose to pulse with a stronger throbbing of pain, making him squeeze his shut eyes even tighter. “Add the unexpected mosh pit in the kitchen I’m really not enjoying myself.” Realising that he did have someone to thank for getting him out alive he opened his eyes. His vision was a little blurry, and his smile was probably on the weak side, but he regarded the dark-haired man, perched on the edge of the chaise lounge beside his legs. “Until now.” Dark but warm eyes regarded him, humoured. “Except that I could’ve done without the panic attack. Thank you – uh…”

“Kylo,” he replied, filling in the search for a name that he hadn’t given yet. 

With a last sweep of his thumb under defined chest Hux curled his hand around, loosely taking Kylo’s hand in his own. “Hux.”

His cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason when Kylo shifted, kissing his forehead. “I can drive you home, save you from waiting and paying for a ride.”

Nodding, tilting his head towards his lips, he hoped he could convince himself to untangle himself from Kylo. It felt good but he was tired and his bed sounded better, even at the relatively early hour. “If you don’t mind.”

It felt right to let Kylo into his apartment. 

He was nearly asleep when Kylo kissed him outside the bathroom, Kylo down to his shorts, himself in pyjama shorts and vest. 

His lips were still tingling the next morning, preparing tea in the kitchen. Kylo woke up from the couch in the sitting area when the kettle whistled. 

He poured his cold over-steeped tea down the sink an hour later, no complaints, pleasantly sore, the nail marks Kylo gave him much preferred than last night's bruises.

He wouldn’t thank Phasma, but something good did come from the mixer.

**Author's Note:**

> No Solos, cups or otherwise, were harmed in the making of this story.


End file.
